


Kids Get Sick

by Lailuva



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, One Shot, Parent-Child Relationship, Set during episode 4 Sanctuary, baby will be fine don't worry, no warnings unless you're squicked by vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-19 02:36:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22003867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lailuva/pseuds/Lailuva
Summary: New dad panics, seeks out more experienced parent
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Comments: 43
Kudos: 524





	Kids Get Sick

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr [here](https://ooops-i-arted.tumblr.com/post/189564396318/kids-get-sick)  
> Inspired by [this comic](https://ooops-i-arted.tumblr.com/post/189394929098/according-to-the-episode-they-stayed-in-the)

It was the strange mewling wail that jolted him out of sleep, instantly putting him on alert. He flicked his helmet’s light on and scanned the dark room for danger. Had the raiders returned, or someone in the village was hurt, or -

The light landed on the child, standing in his crib, who flinched from it and wailed again.

“What?” asked the Mandalorian. There was no danger he could see, not yet. “What is it?”

The child made a horrible retching noise and threw up all over himself.

The Mandalorian swore, slamming his helmet into place and jumping up from the makeshift cot he’d been sleeping in, running straight to the crib to see what was wrong. The vomit was blue, bright blue, and he could still smell it despite the helmet’s filters. He’d seen stuff come out of the kid, sure, but not from this end and definitely not that color.

The child took one look at the gunk all over him and started wailing again.

“No, no, no, don’t do that,” said the Mandalorian, snatching an extra blanket from the crib to try and wipe the stuff up. The child whined, resisting the clean-up, then suddenly retched again.

Lightning reflexes from years of combat saved him from getting any of the disgusting blue gunk on himself. The child wasn’t so lucky; the vomit was all over him. He fell backwards onto his bottom and let out a miserable cry, reaching his arms up.

“Hold on,” said the Mandalorian, trying to wipe up the vomit again. The child grabbed at his hands, crying, all but climbing into his arms. The Mandalorian felt a sudden pull of an invisible force on him, not enough to move him, but enough to make him think picking up the kid right now would be a real good idea.

He wrapped the kid up in another blanket first; his regular bodysuit was still drying from its wash after the battle, and he didn’t have another if he got vomit on this one. That was when he noticed the kid was warm. He felt his forehead, pressed a finger to his tiny cheek. He was definitely warmer than normal. And now that he was holding the kid still and he wasn’t throwing up any more, he seemed to be shivering too.

The Mandalorian stood, blindly grabbing the barn lamp with one hand until he fumbled it on. The vomit was really blue, bright blue as the krill farmed here. He swore, cutting himself off halfway when he remembered the kid could hear. How could he be so stupid? Just because the kid ate frogs didn’t mean it could eat krill. Or that he could eat krill, but not these, these might not be safe for his species. He didn’t even know, and he had no way to get the knowledge. If only he’d recovered that droid’s memory core, or stayed a few minutes to get some information out of that doctor…

The child whined at him, then coughed weakly. Blue-tinged spittle came out. The Mandalorian wiped the kid’s mouth again, trying to think of what to do. He didn’t even know the name of the species, let alone what kind of medical care it needed or would react badly to. He only had supplies suitable for humans. That was all he’d ever needed.

The kid whimpered, pulling at his sleeve with one hand, shivering in his cocoon of blankets and coughing some more. He retched again, making the Mandalorian jump, but nothing came out this time.

Vomiting that wasn’t stopping, fever… what if he was poisoned? The raiders could’ve done something to the water, to the krill, or maybe some upstart bounty hunter had found them and decided to use something other than a gun -

There was some heavy, cold feeling in his chest but there was no time for that, the child needed help,  _ now. _

Help. Omera. Omera would know about the krill, would know local remedies, would know what to do.

He held tighter to the child, who cried as he kicked the door cover open and ran out into the night. The stars and moons gleamed above and reflected in the krill pools, illuminating his way through the village. He knew where Omera’s house was; Winta had taken the kid over to play several times. He made it and skidded to a halt at the doorway, banging on the door frame. “Omera? Omera?” he called, trying to be heard over the kid’s crying and fussing He didn’t hear an answer. “Omera?!” he called louder. Louder, “Omera -”

The door cover was pulled open and a bleary-eyed Omera stared up at him. “What is it? The raiders?” she asked breathlessly.

“No, no look,” said the Mandalorian, holding the child out to her. The child cried and squirmed, but he kept holding him out as Omera turned on a lamp. “He threw up and it was blue, really blue. And I think he’s got a fever.”

Omera peered down at the kid, relaxing. Impatiently, the Mandalorian continued, “It’s not right, the vomit being that color. And with the fever - if something got in the water, poisoned it, we could all be sick.”

Omera reached out, touching the kid’s forehead. “He is a little warm, I think.”

“And he won’t stop crying. He never cries like this,” insisted the Mandalorian. “He’s always quiet.”

“He does seem a little distressed,” said Omera, a faint smile on her lips.

“He could be allergic to the krill!” said the Mandalorian urgently. Why wasn’t she taking this seriously? “He needs medical attention! Is there a medical droid in town? Do you have remedies in the village?”

“Yes, we have remedies,” said Omera.

“What? Can I have it? Or do you need me to -”

Omera held up a hand, stopping him, trying to hide her smile and failing. “Some rest usually helps. And broth, to make sure he stays hydrated.”

“But…” He looked down at the crying child, still shivering in his blanket. “It’s blue.”

“If I threw up right now, it would be blue too,” said Omera, raising her eyebrows at him. “The krill are blue, and they’re the main part of our diet here.”

“He has a fever.”

“Children get sick,” said Omera. She gestured back at Winta, who was now blinking sleepily at them from her cot, apparently woken by the racket. “Winta has a fever every now and then. Some rest and she’s fine in a day or two.”

“Oh.” The Mandalorian stared down at the kid, who was now trying to wriggle back towards him, and held him close again. The child whined and curled up against his chest, one hand grasping the cloth of his bodysuit.

“See if you can get him back to sleep, and I can come check him again in the morning,” said Omera.

“All right,” said the Mandalorian. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” said Omera. “Good night.”

“Good night,” said the Mandalorian, and he nodded to Omera and Winta before stepping out of their house.

He walked back to the barn with the child still whimpering against his chest, the only sound in the quiet night besides the crunch of his feet on the grass. The barn was easy to find, the only building with the lamp on. He glanced up at the small moons; their position indicated it was past midnight. He felt a twinge of guilt for waking up Omera this late.

But, if it had been an emergency, it would’ve been justified. He looked down at the child, who stared up at him with dark eyes and mewled pitifully. Yes, it had been good to make sure the kid would be okay.

He went inside and made for the crib, sighing when he saw it had its share of debris on it. He set the kid down on the floor and made to gather up the dirty blankets when he was interrupted by another loud wail.

He sighed again and looked over at the child. “I have to clean your bed.”

The child cried again, reaching out his arms, and coughed hard.

The Mandalorian moved before anything blue started coming out, snatching the kid back up. He whined, giving the Mandalorian a pleading look.

He sighed, shifted the kid to one arm, and started cleaning the bed one-handed. Luckily only the top blanket had gotten messy, so that was done quickly and he could move on to the kid. He wiped the kid down as best he could before prying him out of his outer coat, a task made more difficult by the kid whining and crying about being put down and trying to climb back into his arms. He had to work quickly, in case the kid woke the whole damn village.

The Mandalorian tossed everything with blue gunk on it in the corner to clean tomorrow before swaddling the kid in a fresh blanket, the thickest one he could find. The child kept whimpering and grasping at his sleeve, and when he set him in the crib it let out a horrible scream.

“Stop that!” The Mandalorian snatched the kid back up, lest the village think he was torturing him. The child cried again, squirming in the blankets.

“Omera said you need rest. Now go back to sleep.”

He set the kid in the crib again, ignoring the rising wail. “No, it’s time to sleep. You  _ sleep,” _ he said as firmly as possible.

The child wrestled his arms out of the blankets, pushing himself up to sit before reaching his arms out, crying insistently.

“No,” said the Mandalorian, laying him back down. “No, you sleep.”

The child cried furiously, wailing at the top of its lungs, until suddenly the sound hitched in its throat, and it gagged.

“Don’t throw up again!” The Mandalorian snatched him out of the crib, and the kid grasped his bodysuit and pulled himself close. He was still shivering, but cooed instead of screaming.

The Mandalorian sighed. This battle was lost. He went over to his cot and sat, leaning against the wall, the kid held close to his chest. He was pretty sure he’d need tools to pry his bodysuit out of that grip; he could feel the claws pressing against his skin through the fabric.

He fixed the swaddling, wrapping the kid up as best he could without trapping his arms this time. The child whined in protest, but at least didn’t scream. “Just go to sleep, kid,” said the Mandalorian.

The child whined, giving him a pitiful look with his big dark eyes.

“You’re all right, _ad’ika,”_ said the Mandalorian, rocking the kid a little. “Sleep.”

The motion seemed to soothe the child, and he leaned his head against the Mandalorian, his eyes drooping. “There you go,” he murmured. “Go to sleep, _ad’ika.”_

The child cooed, snuggling deeper into the blankets, eyes half-shut. The Mandalorian kept rocking, watching the eyes inch further and further closed.

Not for the first time since coming to this village, he felt vastly inadequate to the task of keeping this little one alive and well. Omera had no trouble looking after Winta; the girl was sweet enough to be the child’s favorite playmate and resilient enough that she’d taken the recent battle in stride, speaking to her mother’s skill at parenting. Meanwhile he couldn’t even tell what was serious and what wasn’t, or knew what kind of food or care or medicine the kid needed. The Holonet had almost nothing on the kid’s species, just that a few members of the old Jedi Order had been of the same kind. Maybe someone on Arvala-7 had known how to take care of the kid. Someone had had to tuck him into that crib, hide him in that building, keep him safe and warm and fed. He’d probably killed them.

The child cooed, catching his attention. The eyes were completely shut, and on the child’s next breath he let out a tiny snore, his face relaxing into sleep. It was probably safe to put him back in the crib; the Mandalorian could grab a few more hours of sleep himself before Omera came over to see how the kid was doing.

But he decided he’d better hold him just a little longer, just in case.

**Author's Note:**

> Ad'ika = Little One in Mando'a
> 
> I'm totally new to AO3 so if you have any feedback, especially about tagging appropriately, I'd appreciate it.


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